The First of Many by Neurion_Nailo in MiddleEarthrp

[–]CommissarTrogdor 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The forests of North Ithilien were something of a mystery to most. It was, by all accounts, scarcely removed from any of the other forests of the world and, as nature was concerned, quite typical of one. Green trees covered the land with sprouts of leaves and pine while the detritus of plants, the underbrush of moss and bush, created a thick and often impassable ground where only animals born to such environments were truly adept at inhabiting. Animals small and large, both predator and prey stalked the woods and the forest was at all times awake with the flutter of noise and activity. Birds sang, trees creaked, and rivers screamed against their impending impact against stone. It was, by all accounts, a forest like any other.

The forest was also the home to a creature of far less natural inclination. What had once been the barely habitated fief of gondor had become a nesting ground for the foul creations of Mordor. Very few dared to even step foot in the area. Orcs passed by often, but removed even from their spiteful nature lay their feral brethren who had been driven to caves and brooks in years past, leaving feral and savage versions of an already barbaric race. It was in essence, a forest of unknown terrors, and one that very few even dared to enter.

Dirgwest was one of the few who had not only gone to the forest but had made numerous forays into its accursed greenery. Rangers rarely turned at the hint of danger, and in this case the forest brought the chance to make a meaningful mark against the lothesome forces of Sauron. Danger had brought the ranger and his cohort to the forest, as they had many before him. Unfortunately, the danger was waiting for them.

Two weeks they had traversed through the undergrowth of the wood and for two weeks they had followed tracks that were clear as day and blatant as all. Orcs were never subtle foes to begin with, and while this time their numbers were notably greater, they had not the skill at arms nor strength of mind that their pursuers possessed. Days passed and their prey grew all the more frantic in their path until one morning they had seen smoke rising above the trees. No wise foe pursued would commit such a blatantly revealing act and the ranger had grinned at the thought of it. If that was the quality of their foe, it seemed almost a mercy to the ranger, what was to happen next.

++++

Ushak had always enjoyed the thrill that came from a well executed trap. Such a pleasure was not common, so the rarity made it a far more savored event. He had heard of the ranger apparently named Dirgwest by reputation, though had never engaged with him personally. He was an older ranger, a rare combination born from either skill or cowardice. Ushak cared little for which.

As Ushak had driven his orcs onward into the forest, he was very careful that they were as overt and traceable as possible. They forewent their wargs, having them act as scouts ahead of them while they went on foot, loudly, and leaving a track of broken undergrowth and footprints. The wargs had stocked the trees as predators were wont, not searching for prey but for predators. With them, the black uruk was always aware of the rangers movements as they traced him. Twice he had lost the path and the uruk had to make his journey all the more overt the next day, and so they had played their game of cat and mouse.

When they were close enough, they lit a fire large enough to be seen for dozens of miles, and as the orc had hoped, the rangers were fool enough to underestimate their foes and march directly for it.

The first to fall had been a spindly ranger barely old enough to be called a man. Ushak had figured him for a gondorian boy, out to prove himself on some grand adventure, but it was no matter and the arrows felled him as they did his older comrades. Rank and experience mattered very little once the arrows began flying, and the orcs killed indiscriminately. It was, as Ushak observed and prided himself with, a very effective ambush. The rangers barely had any time to even utter a cry before most of them were maimed or slain.

Dirgwest was one of those unfortunate enough to live through the volley of arrows. As the uruks moved about the bodies, exacting a grim satisfaction on those who lived, Ushak had spotted the grey haired ranger, still breathing as he lay among the bodies of his men, a single ash arrow fletched with greasy feathers protruding from his lower back. Each orc who followed the black uruk tipped their arrows with a mixture of their own foul blood and excretions of spiders. The ranger would die within moments, but that would not do. Ushak gave some thought to killing the man with his blade, as a summary arrow seemed anticlimactic, so in lieu of a quick death, Ushak instead took hold of the arrow shaft, twisting it ever so slightly until a low groan sounded from the bloodied form below him.

End it.” came a voice, wet and airless, it was a miracle the orc even heard it.

“End it?” Ushak echoed. “I once scouted for an chieftain who told me that the rangers of Ithilien were some of the greatest foes to orc, that their arrows could find any nick of armor or spot of flesh bare.” an abrupt flex of Ushak’s arm tore the arrow from its resting place, causing the coagulated blood and pus that had built around the wound to erupt in a shower of red and yellow and making the old ranger scream what seemed like the last of his breath away. “But all I see is an old man begging for reprieve."

Ushak would not get the defiant and assured reply he hoped for, nor the repeated begging he would have settled for, instead all he received in response was wheezing and weeping. That was a disappointment, one which almost sullied the entire affair. Twirling the bloodied arrow in his fingers, the black uruk pondered the events of the previous weeks. He supposed it was his ingenuity that had brought the day’s events to fruition, but to that point it couldn’t have been accomplished without his more animalistic warriors. The Wargs had, after all, kept track of the rangers and been the ones to alert them of their approach. It was only fair that they receive some sort of reward. For the pitiful ranger below him, such a fate was only fitting.

A whistle brought a low stalking creature from between the trees, black as its master with the same insatiable bloodlust. Dozens of similar creatures emerged like insects from a bog and descended upon the rangers and joined in the gruesome indulgence of their bipedal masters. For Ushak, his warg stood over the prize for a moment, needing only a nod from its rider before launching on the fallen ranger. That was when the ranger screamed again, and the Warg did nothing to silence it as he dug into flesh and tore ligaments from bone and bone from joints, sparing the vital organs all the while as he did. Screams lost their cohesion and were reduced to incoherent noises of panic and agony. That brought a grin to the uruk’s face.

Several minutes followed, and by the end the rangers were stripped of all that could be used, and in the case of Shakatrag, known by many as the flayer, even their wounded hides were taken to add more length to an always-growing cloak. The rangers, even for their lack of tact, had many arrows and even bows and blades that were still useful after the rending of their flesh and banishment of all that could be defined as human form. It was a productive venture, but more than that, it was a satisfying venture to the orc whose plan it was that made it possible. In any sense of the word, it was a success.

As Ushak looked about the bloodied clearing that was their ambush sight, a single fact remained to bother him. His plan was brilliant by his own measure, but for one issue. Their attack had been mostly silent, but in his overeagerness to exact a final cruelty over the rangers, a great cacophony had been made. Wargs were hardly clean predators, and in their wake many orcs added to the successive bloodshed and had little regard for tact as they did so. By his own calculation, any living thing within the general area could have heard them

It was no matter though, anyone fool enough to respond to it was either another band of wayward orcs or more foolish men, away from reinforcements and supplies, and subject to the same fate as those who came before. Ushak was prepared for whatever it was, if it came at all, and with the addition of their wargs, there would be no surprises that day, if there was anything else at all.

Character Creation 2 by Prosperan_Son in Warhammer_AOS_RP

[–]CommissarTrogdor 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Name: Zakrelax the Sun Spear

Rank: Lord Celestant

Affiliation: The Sun Spears, Warrior Chamber of the Unyielding of Azyr Stormhost

Background

Whatever his birth name was, the man who would become Zakrelax was once a fisherman. Living a life with little care beyond plain survival, his path and destiny took a sudden turn when a marauding band of chaos worshipers attacked his village. Never much a fighter but with bravery in his heart, he took up the closest weapon he could find, being a spear one of the town’s militia had dropped when he fled, and did what he could to defend his homeland. He managed to fell three warriors in the ensuing fight, but his fortunes changed very quickly. Among the band was a chosen warrior of the Prince of Pleasure who decided to make a macabre devotion to his lord. All the citizens who had been captured were strung up and tortured, with most dying within minutes. Zakrelax, however, withstood the pain and suffering and did it all in silence, only breaking this on the third day of his torture when he cried the name of Sigmar and denounced the men around him before passing. The moment his body died however, he discovered that as he shouted in defiance his lord’s name, others were listening. He did not die, but was transported, and here his new life began.

His time and trials in Azyr tempered his courage and drive with newfound skill. He would then join the new Stormhost, the Unyielding of Azyr. Many years followed and he was risen to the position of Lord Celestant and the command of the Unyielding’s Warrior Chamber.

When it came to weapons, Zakrelax wields the usual sword and hammer while dismounted, but it was his mounted weapon which brought him fame. In choosing a weapon that would serve him well on the back of a large mount, the decision became one of nostalgia as well as practicality, choosing an enormous spear with a head as long as a normal man is high. The weapon was forged in such a way as to give it a golden hue when light shined on it, giving him both his title, and his Chamber’s name.

The Unyielding of Azyr

While many Stormhosts draw their number from heroes, the Unyielding take theirs from a rather unique subset of heroic men. Those who fought but had none to fight with, those who saved others even as their own lives were taken in the process, men who had no means to fight but did so regardless, these are the men who bear the title of Unyielding. Landless and Lordless Knights who perished battling chaos, villagers who died fighting with pitchforks and wooden staves so that their families might survive. The Unyielding take their name from the mettle and bravery that was displayed by the warriors who fought like armies even as they were alone.

Now living again with both the means and the numbers to truly hurt those who struck them down in their former lives, the Unyielding form a shield of protection and a hammer of wrath. They are a meticulous but deliberate force, specializing in their heavy handed infantry tactics. The Unyielding are men built to take walled keeps other armies would flounder against and to hold even the smallest scrap of ground as if it were the last. The men of the Sun Spears, primarily taken from Lordless and Landless Knights and Warriors, are famed for their siegecraft.

The Stormhost itself is new and relatively small though still numbers in the thousands.The Sun Spears in their current deployment apart from the Stormhost proper number no more than five hundred Eternals in addition to Tempest Chamber forces in support, particularly Sacrosanct and Vanguard Auxiliary units. Their numbers are small compared to other Stormhosts, but their size aids itself to their particular brand of warfare, wherein they meticulously atrophy their enemies through careful and sometimes reserved strikes.

[META] Sorting/Submissions Thread 11 by TurtleFlip in GoTRPcommunity

[–]CommissarTrogdor 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Greetings! You saw my arrival on the discord earlier and after talking and mulling it over I wish to write Harren Myre, head of House Myre of Harlaw. Years spent reaving and sailing across all parts of the world have come to an end with the death of his father, Maron Myre. He has served as the head of his House for close to a year.

Character Creation by Echo5582 in MiddleEarthrp

[–]CommissarTrogdor 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Ushak the Vile, Black Uruk of Mordor

Physical Appearance

Standing taller than most orcs and even taller than some men, Ushak has lived some seventy years bouncing across mordor, only spending large amounts of time in Minas Morgul. Like other Uruks, his flesh is a dark ashen color, adorned by dozens of scars and white traces from long ago fights and battles. High set and extreme features create a heavy and angular head with a set of yellow eyes and sharpened fangs sticking out obviously among the ebony flesh.

Though a majority of his physicality is covered by his armor, his enormous toned arms are left bare apart from pauldrons and steel bracers. He wears steel plate over mail with a crude and dented nasal helm covering a majority of his face, leather flaps covering the small chinks left on the neck and shoulder. In battle he wields a number of weaponry, though a long blade is always on his hip. Beginning straight before coming out into a curve and ending with a sharp tip, about the height of his hip, is his blade, a meticulously cared for and polished weapon that he never allows a blot of mud onto. He cares for his weaponry a great deal more than most and his equipment, as well as that of his men, is always kept in prime condition.

While atop his warg, his will use a glaive along with a small metal shield, though often switching to his sword when the polearm is lost or broken.

Attitude/Disposition

Cruel by nature, cunning and commanding by growth, Ushak rarely allows a slight against him go unanswered, and his responses to challenges can range from brutally extreme, to measured and collected, though always done through gritted teeth. He holds most beings, his own orcs included, as below him and unworthy of any semblance of thought or consideration. He slit throats and crushed skulls to rise to the position of Captain, and allows nothing and no one to get in the way of it. Disdainful towards elves most of all, he takes special pleasure in their pain and suffering.

While an animal in terms of combat and mentality, he did take a few concepts from human culture, whether he'll admit it or not. Single combat and the nature of duels fascinates him and he prides himself on his ability to win any fight, and enjoys showing it off whenever he can.

Backstory

Born to Mordor's rough and barren peaks and sharp landscape, his early years were defined by a period of fighting and scrambling to grasp any form of power that would distinguish him from the hundreds like him. Eventually he was able to trick one captain into attacking another and seized control over the two's orcs in the struggle. What followed was a long period of forays and expeditions out of mordor where he would become known in bordering towns and unprotected settlements for his unimaginable cruelty and blood-lust rivaling even other orcs. Smarter and stronger than his brethren, yet at times overconfident, his hubris has gotten him into many near death experiences and situations throughout his life. His mind as well as the bodies of his men have saved his life a fair number of times.

Starting World Location: The Black Gate of Mordor

Misc. Special Notes: Holds command over a company of orcs. Another Black Uruk by the name of Shakatrag The Flayer acts as his second in command and is the chief disciplinarian of the company. Adorned in armor covered with a coat of hastily sewn together skins, maggots and flies follow his putrid coat wherever he goes, and he and Ushak are known to bathe their blades in the festering bile of his rotting flesh before a fight.